Love as a Survivor*

Peas suck in the joy from meals.

My feet protest when I walk in heels.

I was never meant for the stage.

A fractured soul can never really age.


Did you not always love an abstract mess?

Something that suited your own vagueness?

Should this one function as a test?

Shall I call your love a forest?


A wilderness that haunts and robs

seizes the heart and directs its throbs

penetrates dreams and pushes in deeper

into the promises of a deceiver.


But every drop of sorrow from when you loved another

is a medal I cherish like none other.

Come closer and see how my scars shine

I fixed with gold this broken heart of mine.

*This piece is meant to be read as a reply to my previous post, ‘Love as a Deceiver.’

Love as a Deceiver

Do you still pick out your peas from your meals?

Have you learnt to walk in heels?

Are you still afraid of the stage?

How is it that you still don’t age?


The twinkle in your eyes sings to my soul

and ten years without you roll

like a film before my eyes

back to three years with you, filled with lies.


And when you had shut the door behind you

broken, brave, fierce and true,

my lungs, like a leaf in snow went dry.

Guilt denied the privilege to cry.


Today, as you sit in a far corner of your favorite barista

with faces I know not, I face a familiar dilemma

as a drowned heart comes back to life

and flies to you while I prepare for another dive.


For you scorned a heart that scorned your love,

turned your back when I begged you to forgive.

Now no longer the moth attracted to fire,

you know better than to trust him who was once a liar.


But do you still get lost because you cannot remember routes?

Did your sister convince you let go of the blue boots?

Does it still infuriate you when people trudge?

Have you finally learnt to let go of a grudge?